


Second Times the Charm

by Kosaji



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 09:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosaji/pseuds/Kosaji
Summary: Bermuda von Veckenschtein is a supervillian with a crush on local small time hero Ricardo.Who may be his ex.It's complicated.
Relationships: Bermuda von Veckenschtein/Ricardo|Vongola Secondo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28
Collections: 2019 KHR Winter Remix Fest Round 1: Prompt Fic





	Second Times the Charm

“You won’t get away with this!”

Bermuda keeps himself from rolling his eyes just barely. “Really? Cliched trash talk? I expect better from you Primo.”

On the ground, surrounded by three of his best operatives the Primo glares at him, his eyes burning the same color as the orange flame dancing on his forehead. His ridiculous cape is actually swaying in the breeze and if Bermuda were a touch less in a hurry he would definitely be making fun of him for it.

“And I really don’t know why you are so upset. I got you and your better half together, didn’t I?” Bermuda says, tucking the documents inside his cloak as Primo turns bright red and sputters.

“That- I- we didn’t need you to take a declaration of friendship and turn it into a WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT!” Primo takes a step forward and yelps as he ducks under Jaeger’s punch.

“Pity,” Bermuda says, hopping over the counter and past where Primo is now fighting against his people in earnest. “You would have made such cute babies.”

“WE ARE BOTH MEN!”

Bermuda just laughs and pulls on his power, a portal of darkness rising in front of him. “It was good seeing you Primo, lets do this again another time.” More portals form behind his people, and he’s about to step through and leave when the door slams open and a fireball hurtles towards his face.

He steps to the side, the fireball colliding with the portal, destabilizing it the minute the two forces come in contact.

“Secundo,” Bermuda deliberately keeps his voice blank as his portal fizzles into nothingness.

Well, now things were getting interesting.

“Night Flame you are under arrest!”

If it sounded hilarious from Primo, it sounds even sillier coming from Secundo’s mouth. His stern appearance is at odds with the sleek jumpsuit he wears, echoing Primo’s design of black with defined colored piping along his sides. His is red where Primo was orange, an unsubtle homage to the different color flames the cousins wield with skill.

“I wasn’t aware vigilantes could make arrests now,” Bermuda drawls, stepping forward to keep Secundo’s attention on him rather than going to help the other heroes.

From convenient security mirror across the room, he sees Jaegar drop his head into his hands and makes a note to bring it up later – he can’t have his strongest fighter distracted during a heist.

“Lots of things changed since you last hit town,” Secundo says, his dark eyes flashing from behind the black matte of his domino mask. It molds to his cheekbones and nose in a way that really should not be as attractive as it is. His strong jaw is left uncovered but little else, the mask climbing up his forehead to meet at the cowl he wears over his black hair. Bermuda only knows the color from watching one of Secundo’s fights with a third rate villain several years back. Said villain is now located far away, with a new phobia of anything to do with Secundo.

“Apparently. I might have to slow down a bit,” he smirks as Secundo scoffs, no doubt well aware of his secondary gift. Enhanced speed is so useful. “Maybe get caught up with the going ons since I’ve been indisposed.”

Secundo, bless the man, ignores the innuendo. “I’m sure you can catch up with all the regulars in jail,” he says, unimpressed. Bermuda smirks and steps forward into a portal, reappearing just in front of the hero.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he says, leaning up with a smile full of teeth. He taps Secundo in the chest, leaving a beeping device that activates the second Bermuda is safely away, teleporting back to the rear exit, his men already dropping into the portals with Primo distracted by the miniature explosive. Not that Bermuda would dare harm the hero too badly. The villains and heroes play a delicate game in this city, too much brute force by either side would see the whole of the city united against them, and then where would Bermuda be?

Well, he won’t be covered in sticky slime like Secundo, he muses as he watches the hero try to burn off the glue trapping his arms to his body.

“Till next time,” he murmurs, stepping backwards into the darkness.

-

The millionaire slash vigilante shtick is clichéd, but it works so well at opening doors, Bermuda thinks as he sips on his second glass of champagne. The bubbles tickle his tongue as he listens to their host talk about the painting he donated for the auction.

Rich people are all the same – every last one of them comparing their wealth against one another, subtly and unsubtly playing games of upmanship. If not money then it is over experiences, who had the most exotic vacation or went to the most overpriced restaurants serving food that they pretend to like all for the sake of image.

And once in a while, they gather like peacocks to show off how much wealth they had by giving it all away. Some out of genuine philanthropy, like the head of the Vongola corporation, standing casually against the wall, talking amiably to the crowd of hanger-ons he gathers without any effort. Bermuda snorts at the way Giotto leans slightly against the arm Cozarto Shimon has around his neck, the act playfully casual between two longtime friends to the average person, but Bermuda has been fighting Primo for years, and knows just how often he grants people permission to step into his space.

Maybe he’ll send them a congratulatory bouquet, just for one last jab at Primo’s lie about not being married. He hears edible arrangements are in style now.

“Boss.”

Bermuda flicks his eye to the side, acknowledging Jaegar as he joins him in watching the crowd from mezzanine. Jaegar fits in with the crowd, the straight lines of his handsome suit highlighting his lean figure and stature. His hair is tamed for once, dark hair shining with product as it is combed back into a tight bun that makes him look like a contributing member of society, not Bermuda’s second in command.

“Everything is going well,” Bermuda swirls the champagne, watching the bubbles pop idly. One of the shell charities he set up is a recipient of the proceeds of this little soiree, and they were here to keep up appearances.

Not that he can’t have a bit of fun alongside work.

“Gingerbread is in place,” Jaegar continues, and Bermuda nods when commotion at the entrance of the room catches his attention.

“Well this just got interesting,” Bermuda sets his glass down, Jaegar tellingly silent next to him. He watches as Ricardo Vongola makes his way into the room, a lovely blond woman hanging on his arm. Elena Spade, Bermuda relaxes his grip on the railing as he recognizes her. Socialite and generous philanthropist. Also happily married to Daemon Spade, which is the reason he isn’t planning her inevitable removal from Ricardo’s person.

“Boss,” Jaegar wears the same long suffering look that he usually aims at the misbehaving members of his organization. Bermuda just smirks and straightens his cuffs.

“I trust you will take care of things here?” Bermuda doesn’t give Jaegar the chance to protest, already charting a course to intercept Ricardo before he meets up with his boring cousin.

Unseen behind him Jaegar drops his head into his hands, cursing that his boss has finally discovered hormones at the ripe age of 35.

“Hello there,” Bermuda slides up next to Ricardo, smiling up at the taller man.

Ricardo pauses, recognition lighting his eyes. “Bermuda? You’re back in the city?”

“For a while,” Bermuda says, tilting his head towards an open alcove in invitation. It’s one Ricardo takes with a hesitant smile, leading the way and thereby completely missing his cousin’s horrified expression.

Bermuda dips his head in respectful nod, one that only serves to rile Giotto up further as he catches up to Ricardo, pressing a hand to the small of his back as he leads them further away from the milling partygoers to a more private corner.

“Are you teasing my cousin again?” Ricardo asks dryly, taking a glass from a nearby server with a nod of thanks.

“To an extent,” Bermuda demurs as he spots Jack moving to intercept Giotto. Its so nice to have underlings who can anticipate his needs. “He makes it very easy.”

Ricardo snorts and Bermuda watches with fascination as the grin transforms his stern face into something more youthful, the tension wrinkles at the corner of his eyes easing up.

Ah. Bermuda takes a quick swallow of his drink, suddenly parched. Ricardo looks down at him warmly, the smile reaching his eyes as he says, “You haven’t changed at all have you?”

He’s in trouble.

-

Four years ago Bermuda was simply a mafia boss. Albeit one that liked to moonlight as a supervillain, but really, in a city as infested with superhuman abilities such as this one it was only a matter of time before he gave in and became either a superhero or villain.

At least supervillains get better costumes.

Fighting with Primo and his little fledgling band of heroes was amusing, plotting heists and gaining power over the seedy underbelly of the city was a goal that he threw himself into with vigor.

Then came that night where everything changed.

A single invitation, an offer that was too good to be true. And yet like a fool he went, too smug, glutted with confidence in his own power and influence.

All of it paled in comparison to That Man, and Bermuda and his men paid the price.

His powers gone, twisted, something in his soul missing, all because he couldn’t resist the lure of more power.

That night he vowed vengeance, scurrying from the city like a rat into the sewers as he healed and plotted. He wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.

Nothing – and no one.

-

“Bermuda?”

Bermuda blinks and automatically smiles at Ricardo, wide and fake. “Sorry, got lost in thought. Now,” Bermuda motions over to the doors leading to the auction as Ricardo watches him with a worried frown, “what exactly did your cousin part with this evening?”

Its a distraction that works, though not for the reason Bermuda thinks, as Ricardo’s face blooms with color. He traces the red flushing his skin into a ruddy shade with his eyes as Ricardo coughs and tugs at his cuffs.

“It’s some of mine, actually,” Ricardo says, looking quite embarrassed. “I finished them a month ago, and Giotto thought it would be a good idea to get some publicity.”

Bermuda tucks that information into the corner of his mind, trying to wrap his mind around this new aspect of Ricardo. Not only part time vigilante, part time lawyer, but also part time artist.

The dissonance is not as great as he thought it would be.

“You have steady hands,” Bermuda says, remembering previous times when those strong hands were wreathed in burning flames that never went anywhere except where their owner directed. When those hands held a pen as words flowed in perfect penmanship across paper, or those long fingers flew over a keyboard. “It’s no surprise that you would make something beautiful with them.”

The blush that gets him is dangerous, makes him want to take Ricardo away into a dark corner and do things to him. Makes him want to see if that blush goes all the way down, pick up where he left off with this addicting, amazing man four years ago.

It takes all of his control to limit the contact to an arm placed on the dip his back, guiding him over to the auction where Bermuda gently bullies Ricardo into pointing out his artwork.

Later that night Bermuda makes sure none of Ricardo’s paintings make it to anyone’s hands other than his.

At least he can take some part of the man home. 

-

“Really, Secundo, I’m starting to think that I have offended you somehow,” Bermuda pants, crouching down on top of the rafters.

“Has anyone told you you look like a bat when you do that?” is all Secundo says, one gloved hand glowing with Flame.

Bermuda’s eyebrow twitches under his mask, but somehow Secundo seems to notice, a cocky smirk on his face as he steps forward, peering into the shadows to get a better look at Bermuda.

“You weren’t this chatty when I left,” Bermuda sighs theatrically, using the movement to mask his hand going for his gun. He won’t use it if he doesn’t have to, but he will if Secundo forces him to. “Whatever happened to that cute kid who always followed Primo around?”

“You left and he grew up.”

Bermuda pauses, caught off guard. “I didn’t realize that we had grown so close back then,” he says, watching as Secundo’s flame disperses. He drops down from the rafters, his cape brushing against the toes of Secundo’s boots as he straightens but the man doesn’t flinch.

“Bermu-“ Bermuda lunges forward, hand hard against Secundo- Ricardo’s mouth as he presses him up against the wall, his arm pushing against his chest, keeping him pinned in place.

“Tell me, Secundo,” he hisses, leaning forward, glaring furiously up at this stupid, stupid man. “When have I ever given you the impression we were on first name basis?”

He doesn’t move the hand over his mouth, not until he hears footsteps coming towards them. Distracted, he lets Ricardo up for a moment, only to get swung up into his arms as he jumps them up into the rafters, pinning Bermuda in the same hold he had him in. The two of them glare at each other as their ears strain, waiting as a security guard makes his usual rounds through the warehouse.

When the door shuts again Bermuda strikes out with a leg, catching Ricardo in the thigh and shoving him back.

“Shit-!,” Secundo rocks back too far, eyes wide behind his mask as he falls backwards. His hands flail, and somehow catch Bermuda by the cape, taking them both down to the ground. Bermuda curses and grabs onto Ricardo, summoning a portal midair. They fall through and safely onto the ground, Bermuda rolling them so that he is on his hands and knees over Ricardo. Both hands frame his face, and his cape covers the two of them, leaving only their masks exposed.

“If you didn’t want to be on first name basis you shouldn’t keep saving me,” Ricardo finally says, relaxing back against the ground.

Bermuda grinds his teeth, too aware of every puff of breath against his cheek. He should pull away, should try and put some distance between them.

Instead he dips his head lower, watching Ricardo’s pupils blow out, and his head tip back in invitation. They stay still, balancing on the precipice when Ricardo slips out his tongue and licks his lips, his eyes flicking from Bermuda’s down to his lips.

“Tell me to stop,” Bermuda demands, begs as Ricardo’s breath shudders against his lips. He shouldn’t be doing this, he had plans-

“Make me.”

The last of Bermuda’s control snaps and he slants his mouth over Ricardo’s, swallowing the immediate moan as tongue and teeth meet in an electrifying clash. For all Ricardo is lying on his back (and oh that thought sends a shiver down his spine, a vision of Ricardo in his bed, just like this, just for him to see) he doesn’t stay idle. Strong hands travel up his sides, under his cape to grab at his back, his thighs. An adventurous hand cops a feel, making Bermuda bite at Ricardo’s lower lip in retaliation.

All it gets is a laugh that quickly turns into a moan as Bermuda moves onto his jaw, the sensitive dip behind his ear, the strong line of his neck.

He’s daydreamed about what he wanted to do to this neck, how he was going to mark it up so that everyone knew who Ricardo Vongola belonged to, and now he finally gets a chance to make those dreams reality, sucking kisses up and down, listening to Ricardo try and muffle his groans.

He shifts, bringing his knee between Ricardo’s thighs, pushing up to hear that groan again, laughing as Ricardo drags his head up for another bruising kiss.

All fun must come to an end though, this time courtesy of cockblocking older cousins who can’t seem to understand what knocking means.

“Night FL-AHHHHH!” Primo screams, covering his eyes as Bermuda and Ricardo spring apart, each on high alert until they realize that it’s just Primo.

“Y-you! And him!” Primo sputters, the flame on his head a tiny tea light as he points between Bermuda, who is standing with his cape covering his body and Ricardo, who’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before turning to Ricardo with a glare. “I thought you said you were going to TAKE IT SLOW?”

Bermuda blinks lazily at this new development, watching as Ricardo turns even brighter red. How disappointing, he hasn’t managed to get that kind of color out of him yet. He’s going to have to try harder.

“Primo-“

“Secundo did you forget that we’re in the middle of stopping a heist? If I knew you were seducing Night Flame-“

“I was not seducing-”

Bermuda interjects with a, “You were very seductive,” just to see Ricardo turn to him with betrayal in his eyes as Primo continues to lecture him.

And… they were both ignoring him. Bermuda’s eye twitches, but the watch on his wrist vibrates, the signal that Gingerbread had managed to sneak in and get what they need. He watches the two cousins for a beat before pulling up a portal.

A flash of flame shoots by him, just missing his head. He stops, turning his head slightly to look at Secundo, who has his arm outstretched, a serious look on his face.

“We need to talk,” he says, and Bermuda admires the confidence in his voice, he really does. But he knows how this story ends, and it’s not with the local hero shacking up with the supervillain.

“Maybe if you catch me,” he tosses out, stepping through the portal. Ricardo’s face twisting in frustration is the last thing he sees as he steps back into his base.

-

Of course he completely manages to forget just how stubborn Ricardo could be. It’s how he managed to badger Giotto into letting him be a hero, honing his gifts and building up a reputation so pristine that even Giotto could not justify _ not _ bringing his cousin into the organization.

So it’s an unpleasant surprise when he answers to door to find Ricardo standing there, two take out cups of coffee and a bag full of greasy breakfast food in hand.

“I brought sausage and coffee.” The food and drink are offered out like a bribe, one that Bermuda, still groggy from last night is too weak to resist.

“This doesn’t count,” he hisses, squinting against the bright light of the day. Why is the sun out so early? The next chance he gets, he’s turning the sun off. He can do it, he has an army of scientists.

“Please don’t try and turn off the sun,” Ricardo says dryly, stepping into the front hall and closing the door behind him. “I would have to stop you and that would make a terrible second date.”

Bermuda freezes before turning into his house with a sigh. “Are we really doing this now?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee. It’s just how he likes it, and really, Ricardo is not playing fair.

“You showed up after disappearing for four years, and the first thing you do is start a robbing spree around the city.” Ricardo’s voice is sharp, and when Bermuda looks up his body language is tense, closed off. “I-we thought you were dead, and you didn’t even bother to show up in person until that auction.”

Ah.

“Did you miss me, Ricardo?” Bermuda purrs out, slow and cruel, regaining some of his wits with good coffee in him. He feels a twinge of regret when he sees anger cross Ricardo’s face, and thinks to himself that this is the last time. That he will push Ricardo away for good this time.

“I know about the Tri-Ni-Sette.”

Bermuda’s veins turn to ice, the coffee hitting the table and spilling out to the floor between them as Ricardo stares him down, eyes unwavering.

“You,” Bermuda snarls, darkness gathering at his fingertips. In a flash he’s in front of Ricardo, the other man not even flinching as Bermuda pushes him against the wall and drags him down by the collar. “What do you know? Who told you-?”

Fear and hate wrestle for control as he thinks over his past actions, over how he could have messed up and let someone find out –

“The current generation of Arcobaleno came to us with a warning about the Trials. Giotto got a visit from the man called Checker Face the next day.”

Bermuda snarls at the name of That Man, portalling the two of them out of his apartment into the bedroom of one of his safehouses, pushing Ricardo back onto the bed and climbing over him. “When was this? Did he see you?” he barks out the questions, checking over Ricardo like he could see any sign of Checker Face putting one of his filthy hands on him. Fear clogs his throat at the thought of Checker Face seeing Ricardo, seeing just how strong and unique his gift was. Perfect for powering those damn pacifiers.

“He didn’t- Bermuda I’m fine!” Ricardo garbs his hands as they move over his body, pulling them to his chest so Bermuda could feel his heartbeat. “Giotto wouldn’t let him touch me, you know that.”

Well, that was one good reason to have a cockblocking, overprotective older cousin, Bermuda thinks as he calms down, palm pressing against the reassuring beat of Ricardo’s heart.

“The Lightning Arcobaleno Verde – he figured out what you were doing, what you were searching for,” Ricardo’s voice rumbles in his chest, keeping Bermuda’s hands pinned when he tries to pull away. “Bermuda, why didn’t you come to me? I could have helped you.”

Bermuda barks out a laugh yanking free as Ricardo’s grip loosens, his face stung. “And what could you have done, your cousin and his band of strays?” Bermuda looks at Ricardo with wild eyes, thinking of those horrible first days. “I could barely walk – I needed Jaegar to carry me everywhere those first few weeks,” he hisses to Ricardo, taking pleasure in how the blood drains from his face as bits an pieces of the madness from that first year come to the front of his mind. “My powers were stolen, only the twisted remains were left, and that I could barely use until two years ago.”

Two years of intense training, two years of focusing his hate, his tattered pride, his fear all into an all encompassing goal. To find Checker Face, and to kill him.

He learned about the Tri-Ni-Sette, about the power that keeps the world moving. At a price.

Every four to five years sacrifices were chosen, their powers taken to strengthen the Tri-Ni-Sette, leaving empty husks behind. Sacrificial lambs for the sake of the world.

Well, he didn’t ask to be sacrificed.

“I only came back for one thing, and that is to destroy Checker Face,” he tells Ricardo, unflinching at the pain that crosses hi face. “I am not going to stop, not even for you.”

Especially not for Ricardo. Gorgeous, powerful Ricardo who managed to somehow catch Checker Face’s eye, even with all the effort Bermuda made to stay away from him, from their city. No, now Bermuda has another reason to crush Checker Face’s throat beneath his feet, and that reason is sitting up on the bed, one hand reaching out to grab his own.

Bermuda petulantly stays put, until Ricardo gives up with an eye roll and hauled him back to bed with his full strength.

“You…” Ricardo sighs, and Bermuda braces for rejection, for Ricardo to deem him a lost cause. “… are a complete idiot.”

What.

“What was that you brat?” Bermuda says darkly, grabbing one of Ricardo’s wrists warningly. He wouldn’t hurt him, but a reminder that he is still a supervillain seems to be required.

“An idiot,” Ricardo says bluntly. “You just heard me say that one of the most powerful groups in the country came here to warn us about Checker Face, we know he isn’t what he seems. We’re _ prepared _,” Ricardo stresses, staring him down, “and we have allies. We won’t be caught off guard like you were.”

It’s Bermuda’s turn to flinch at the reminder, at the memory of waking up with a broken body, surrounded by the corpses of those who couldn’t stand the pain of their gifts being stripped away.

“You can still kill him, I’m not going to stop you,” Ricardo says, lacing their hands together, drawing Bermuda forward between his legs. “But we can help, _ let _ us help.”

Let me in, Ricardo’s eyes say, don’t shut me out again.

Bermuda stays still, jaw clenched as he stares down Ricardo’s earnest stare. Ricardo, that brat, doesn’t play fair and brings their hands up to kiss at Bermuda’s wrist. “Let _ me _ be your hero for once Bermuda.”

The corny line gets a startled laugh out of him, and even Ricardo looks surprised at how Bermuda reacts.

“Fine, fine. You win,” Bermuda says, untangling their fingers so that he can reach out with both hands to cup Ricardo’s face. “But,” his fingers tighten in warning. “I have some stipulations.”

“Everything must be in writing and must be agreed to by both you and Giotto,” Ricardo answers promptly, making Bermuda roll his eyes. Lawyers, ugh.

“First, you are getting a bodyguard,” Bermuda says, stalling Ricardo’s protests with a hard kiss. When they finally pull away from each other Ricardo’s lips are shiny and bright red, and Bermuda has to focus to get back to his point. “I don’t care what you think, you are one of the most powerful supers in this city, if you think I’m going to be taking any risk with Checker Face around-“

Bermuda gets interrupted as Ricardo leans up to kiss him long and slow.

“Bermuda,” he says lovingly. “I am a superhero. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Bermuda smiles just as lovingly back. “Ricardo,” he drawls out, “I don’t care.”

The two glare at each other, tension building between them until finally, with an unspoken signal they lunge for each other, dropping back onto the bed.

Whatever, Bermuda thinks, they can figure everything else out later.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [First Time's the Rescue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21933691) by [OnceABlueMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceABlueMoon/pseuds/OnceABlueMoon)


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